The Flames of Lust and War
by LittleFoxGirl
Summary: Even in the 41st millennium, even in the grim dark universe filled with war and hate. Even among those who worship the Blood God of War, lust must be satisfied, blood soaked and charred to the bone. A short story of two members of the infamous blood pact who find themselves in a blood red sea of lust and pain. Conflict and passion. Hate and Love.


_Even those among the Blood God of War's chosen...the animal instincts of lust and conflict go hand and hand..._

**_This is my third 40k story, a one shot one try kind of thing. Felt in the mood to write some blood soaked smut hehe enjoy. _**

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOO

The rain seemed constant that gloomy day in the Imperial hive city of Kerleth. The regiment of Blood Pact was stationed there, had been for months. It was an average patrol day for Eve's squad, as sheets of rain soaked their cloths. It amused them to see the swirling pink currents that ran from their cloths, testament to their honors to the Blood God. For the past two months in that war torn city, it seemed like it was under constant rain and clouds – the gloom of prolonged and abusive war. As her fellow soldiers sat in a ruined hab, waiting for the rain to let up, even just a bit, Eve leaned against a wall looking out on to the grimy abandoned streets. Her sopping wet hair dripped onto her heavy flamer, sitting on her lap.

She didn't notice, but she was cutting her arm again, making intricate slashes with her dirty iron blade, inherently slicing corrupted and unholy symbols to her patron god upon her flesh. A pool of crimson gathered beneath her arms. Her attention was drawn to a scout returning, who slipped into the building soaking wet. The soldier removed his hood, and she recognized him as Derrek, the newest member of her squad. He knelt beside their Sergeant and whispered his report.

After a quick nod, the scout was dismissed and disappeared into the next room. He seemed a decent fighter to her, even for a sneaky bastard. She remembered when he joined the squad; his was decimated in the first assault of Kerleth. He seemed quiet and didn't say much to the others, though Eve's squad was generally talkative. Everyone liked to compare kill tallies, spread the gossip, and trade soldiering advice. Though she found him attractive, she had never really spoken to him. 'What could it hurt?' she thought and stood up, tossing her flamer over her shoulder. She took a pack of lho sticks from her side pouch, sticking one in her mouth as she walked into the second empty room. Derrek was sitting against the wall examining his sniper rifle. He looked up in time to see the light as she took a drag on the lho twinkle in her eye. He wore a standard Blood Pact uniform, with his sanguine armor pieces, battle worn and crudely painted. He had a pair of scout scopes resting atop on his dirty, ragged black mane. His young face was marred and scarred by years of battle against the Imperium, as well as the unholy sacraments the Blood Pact offered its master. Twin scars crisscrossed his face along with an unholy star around his left eye, carved into his flesh. His eyes shone a sickly off white around pale green irises. He was handsome and she couldn't help but note it. She walked up to him and proffered her box of lho sticks.

"You want one?" Eve asked in a soft, almost purring voice. She had a smirk on her face as he slid a stick out of the pack. Without a word, she took out a match, and struck it on the tread of his boot; lighting his lho with the twinkling, hungry flame. She had a devilish grin on her face, as she bent over him; offering a perfect view of her cleavage over her armor.

"Thanks. Eve was it?" He asked in a growling voice that sent cold shivers up her spine. Playfully waving the cloud away from her face, she chuckled. Flopping against the wall across the corner from him, she rested her flamer beside her, legs crossed sensually. She continued showing off her chest. It was her favorite tactic. She gazed at the ceiling, puffs of grey smoke erupting from her nose.

Eve was a well-built woman. Her sensuous curves went on for days, shown well by her revealing armor and clothes. Her carved flesh only added to her mystique and allure; truly, this was a strong woman. She had vibrant, fire orange hair that hung over her scarred face. Derrek watched her intently as they sat there silent but obvious tension in the air.

Derrek broke the silence first. His eyes slid over Eve's body, slithering like daemon flesh, true as the whispers of the Keepers of Secrets.

"Your blood," He says, mouth still wrapped around his lho, "smells delicious."

Eve blushes even as she tilts the heavy flamer's nozzle to point straight at Derrek. She's flattered, but she'd danced a jig like this before. Needless to say, there were many flatterers amongst the servants of Chaos. But few you could love, and none you could trust. Her pilot light clicked on with an ominous hiss.

"That so, scouty-boy? Me, I've never been one for the raw stuff though. I like it burnt, black and charred. You wanna burn, big guy?" The scout inched back at the sudden sound of the pilot light, letting out a low growl from his throat, smoke issuing from between clenched teeth. He had a look of experience shimmering in his eyes and she knew he had played this little game before, and, she smiled, got burned. But there was still something Eve could not explain. He was different, just by the look in his eyes as he grinned, mouth full of sharpened teeth. He moved closer to the barrel pressed against his armored chest, his nose barely gracing hers. The steel of his chest plate began to glow cherry red, accompanied by the smell of singed flesh. A scent Eve loved so dearly.

"I like your spark," was all Derrek had to say – smoke curling up around his face - to pull a moan from her throat. As their lips barely touched the sudden and familiar sound of a las shot slashed through their lustful trance.

"IMPERIALS! Take cover maggots!" the sergeant yelled as more shots bit the ruined wall. Eve immediately pushed Derrek off of her and darted to a window, her flamer primed and ready. Eve's heart was already pumping, her blood boiling in excitement. She took cover hard against the wall next to the sergeant. The shooters were too far away for her to engage with her flamer.

Her fellow soldiers began to return fire, a fusillade of dirty green and magenta lasfire crisscrossing with the standard red of the Imperial dogs. The sergeant darted a quick glance through the small window set in the front door. His head pulled back with a snarl of frustration, followed by the ozone smell of las as sniper's hot shot round missed him by inches.

"Imperial cowards! Hiding out in the rubble! Not close, no blades!"

The sergeant frustratedly lifts his auto pistol and blasts shots at their assailants. The rest of the squad follows suit. Derrek searches the debris and rubble outside with his scoped gun. He follows the retina-scorching paths of one of the shooters las shots, and places his own in the Imperials head. Derrek takes a moment to appreciate the simple majesty of the blood splatter from his kill, before searching for another target.

Eve was useless without a closer target, she needed to get closer so she could roast the dogs alive – listen to their screams and taste their skins sear in the fires of war. She ducked down and ran to where Derrek was making his shots, one after another. She slammed against the cover, gripping her flamer tightly against her chest.

"How many are there scouty-boy?" she asked with a smirk.

"Can't be more than 10 of the bastards, no idea how they managed to stay inside the city this long," he answered, as he spat the half-finished lho stick from his mouth. Eve peered over to where the guardsmen were firing from; there was an empty doorway to the left of the ruined walls the imperials were crouching behind. If she could run and make it to that doorway, she reasoned she could roast those fuggers alive.

"Cover me, scouty," she said as she dashed to the end of the hab unit. The wall separating it from the next domicile was typical worker grade prefab. She was able to smash her body straight through it. Las fire chased her down the hallway as some sharp-eyed guardsman followed her movements. He was soon silenced however, as Derrek put a shot in his shoulder and eye.

Eve reached the end of the second hab, crouching by the door. This would be the tricky part – opening the door, and making her dash across the avenue separating the gun battle. With a prayer to Khorne, she wrenched the door open and made her dash. In her faith in the Lord of War and Skulls, she had always found the resolve to fight on, no matter what. Khorne did not care from whence the blood flowed; why should she?

Despite the gun battle erupting around her, for a few seconds all Eve could here was her own heavy breathing and her feet pounding the rockcrete street in her mad dash. It was only after she slid into cover next to the Imperial position that she realized no one had taken fire at her. They hadn't seen her, and she grinned. Their surprise was going to be delicious. She paused at that thought, shaking her head.

"I almost sound like one of those cowards of the Lord of Lies!" she hissed to herself, and raised her flamer to look into its pilot light, "No, I serve the Fires of War, and Khorne is the Lord of War!"

With that, Eve quickly turned through the open door, and leveled her heavy flamer. The Guardsmen – no PDF! In shabby, torn uniforms, a squad of PDF Imperial scrubs had managed to pin down her whole squad. Eve let out a snarl of rage, shortly followed by the daemonic Whooosh! of her flamer. The building, the PDF, it all went up, awash in seething promethium.

As soon as the flames subsided, Eve climbed out of the smoldering wreckage, lighting up another lho on her flamer. She heard the cry's and cackles of the men in her squad as she walked back through the breeze way. But there was a sudden, silencing crack of a rifle, and an intense heat ripped into her shoulder. Eve fell onto the street, and started to crawl forward. She hadn't yet registered that she was hit, the only though in her mind a desperate need to move. She saw her own blood stain the wet rockcrete ground beneath her. A voice in her mind, twisted and thirsty told her to drink it, so she raised her hand to her mouth 'why is it covered in blood?' and licked at it.

Derrek saw the red beam as it transfixed Eve. He yelled out, stunned by the sudden resurgence of combat. One second, he had been watching his vixen, triumphant lho in needle teeth, sauntering back from her inferno. The next, she was down in the street, lapping at her own vitae. An animal rose up inside him, and he desperately searched for his target. Some would have gone out to help Eve, but Derrek, like Eve and all their squad mates, was Blood Pact. He knew what really mattered.

Derrek hunted through his scope, his blood pounding in his ears. Suddenly, he saw the glint of a scope in a third floor window of a hab two buildings down and the lancing light of a shot; it hit Eve again in the leg, and she roared in pain, mouth covered in her own blood. It was a ghastly, daemonic sound that escaped her throat, a terrible ungodly shriek of agony. That sound, that horrific sound thrilled Derrek, and he gritted his razor teeth. He found his target, a darkened sniper. Derrek could tell the sniper had Eve's head in his scope, and Derrek took in a deep, calming breath - slowing his heartbeat.

"Die, you fugger." He said as he pulled the trigger, sending a hotshot through the snipers head.

Eve didn't remember much before she blacked out, she remembered Derrek and the sergeant running up to her, yelling at her. Sounds were like swimming through an ocean of pain and misery before her vision went clouded pitch black. Eve could hear twisted grotesque voices. Only whispers and blood curdling growls, accompanied by battle cries. She could feel a tugging at her soul; a presence in her dreams, a dark blood red presence like heavy weighted stares. Then she awoke jolting up in a cold sweat, she was in a dark shadowed room. She knew that feeling beneath her; it was a standard barracks bed with its rough uncomfortable sheets and rocklike pillows. Her eyes were foggy and she could feel low dull pain in her left side again fill her. Eve was forced to lie back on the bed, she was alive and that's all that counted.

After a few hours of painful nervous naps she impatiently got up from her bed, pulling over a tarnished dirty uniform shirt but no pants her leg hurt too badly to put some on, and started out of the room her leg causing her immense pain but she had to find something to do. To be useful. She had been injured before and she hated it, she hated waiting. The barracks were dark, crudely painted symbols to Khorne and the other gods were splashed across the grey walls. She ran her hand against the wall as she limped forward. She peered into open doors as she passed them, most were empty. The chain of command probably had men searching the city for more survivors or maybe there were fewer soldiers in her regiment then she realized. As she limped down the corridors she found a room with a man sitting on a bed, cleaning a sniper rifle. He was shirtless just wearing his dirty uniform pants stained red from the unholy blood of his enemies. His muscled chest was full of crisscrossing scars from previous untold battles; each with their own story to tell. She realized it was Derrek he had a single lamp on next to him to see his work that and the glow of his lho stick stuck between his jaws. She smirked, leaning against the door frame, watching him, watching his muscles move under his marred skin as he worked on his precious gun. Each soldier took care of his gun, loved his gun like a woman. Each gun was a part of its owner and its owner apart of his gun. She just stood there arms crossed in from of her chest. She knocked on the wall next to her with a smirk on her face. He looked up from his work; he had grease on his hands and his scarred handsome face. Derrek had a huge grin on his face, lho in between his teeth.

"You're alive… what a surprise you took quite the blows anyone else would have died, but you….you drank your own blood as you crawled on your belly like a snake." He commented having leaned his rifle against the desk and was lying back on his bunk, hands behind his head.

Eve had a devilish smirk on her face as she saw Derrek take out a dark-brown, unlabeled bottle from under his pillow, and down a gulp of the liquid. She sauntered over to him; her body barely pressed against his naked flesh, and swiped the bottle from him, taking a long drink of the strange liquid. She knew this taste. It was a home-brewed specialty amongst the Blood Pact men. Distilled alcohol mixed with raw blood other vile ingredients. The copper taste sent shivers down her spine.

He wrapped his hands around her, rubbing the soreness from her muscles. Eve continued to drink, feeling the heady rush of burning spirits running down her throat. Derrek continued to run his hands over her body, making her flesh sing as he kneaded out her aches and replaced them with the electricity of human contact. She felt her blood begin to burn, fire trailing through her veins. She nipped at his neck, drawing a little blood, sweet with corruption.

Derrek pushes her onto the bed spilling the alcohol all over the floor as Eve drops the bottle; the sniper pined her to the bed biting her neck filling her with uncontrolled animalistic rage in a blur of lust. She tore at his pants, shredding them from his legs. He ripped her shirt off, and they were entangled. Biting, kissing, touching; they came together in an obscene spectacle. He ran his tongue over her breasts, and she arched her head back, giving a long, impassioned sigh. He put his whole body behind his thrusts. Each of them had devolved into wanton, selfish, and impassioned instinct. Where men and women made love, these two came together in something more insane, yet so utterly pleasing. He took her in any way he could think, and yet to her, Eve was taking him. He bit at her as she rode him. She tore at his chest as he thrust into her. They were a tangled mess of pure emotion and blood lust, lapping up each other's fresh blood, licking their wounds. Till the moment of pure release, Eve collapsing on top of his rough bloody chest. Breath heavy, sweat and blood dripping down their naked bodies. No words were uttered by either of them till Eve crawled up his body laying her ear on his moving chest.

"That," she panted, "was what I hoped it would be."

Derrek smiles at her, his fanged mouth giving him a blood-curdling, predatory nature. He slides his hand down her chest, tracing the bleeding lacerations they had made. The smell of their love-making, bodies and blood fills both of their nostrils. The fervor of their passions would have made any Slaaneshi cultist proud. The air reeked of pain, and thrummed with their spent energy.

Eve lay on the scouts crimson stained chest, and suddenly felt that dark, overwhelming presence again as she closed her eyes. She had always felt it since the day she joined the service of the name, speaking in an ancient forgotten tongue. The very sound made her veins pulse with a growing animalistic rage.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it too," Derrek said, his voice husky with satisfaction. He smiled at her again, an almost-genuine expression of affection. His face clouded, however, when he felt her pulse begin to quicken. Her body began to radiate heat, and he saw the blood flow faster from her wounds.

"What-"

"Khorne is the War-Fire, the Hate-Flame!" Eve shouted, looking at him with eyes gone bloodshot and red as her hair. "I bring his holy blaze to the galaxy!"

"Eve!"

But she was up, barely covering herself in clothing, whispering daemon-tongues. Eve hefted her heavy flamer, its tanks sloshing promethium.

"Come with me, Derrek," she said, half-way lucid, yet rapidly decaying into total insanity, "there are things to burn!"


End file.
